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owodi · 9 hours ago

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⭑ sylus finally fits. ⭑

⭑ summary. you and sylus still haven’t found a way to have sex—until, in this latest attempt, he finally fits. ౨ৎ

💌 ⁀➴ content warnings: 18+! lowercase intended. non-evol au. established relationship. pet names (sweetie, sweetheart). size kink. fingering. finger sucking. unprotected sex. lube. missionary. a little bit of a plot twist ending(?)

💌 ⁀➴ wc: 1.7k. song mention: cherry. lana del rey.

⭑ a note from 乇m! ⭑ first time em has ever written p in v sylus sex? and it certainly won’t be the last??

💌 ⁀➴ thank you for reading! ౨ৎ

“that’s it. that’s it, make a mess for me. no need to be shy."

with one last desperate clench, you gasped for your next breath, then melted into your release, as delicious, hot-syruped pleasure dripped sugar wax into the base of your stomach.

sylus committed to the exact momentum that brought you there in the first place—not thrusting his fingers, but instead pressing that same button of plump nerves deep within your core with relentless speed and precision. he thumped his fingertips against your sweet, squelching patch of cherries, as his other hand splayed across your stomach, held steady so he could smudge your clit with his thumb.

your sticky, needy moans kept coming as you fought through endless shivers, that racked your body so handedly that you had to clutch sylus’s wrist for support.

when he bowed forward to kiss the edge of your hand, your hips jolted in response, at the same time that your thighs attempted to clench around his waist. he tsked, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth with a slow shake of his head. then he taunted you further with smeared kisses up your fingers, and along your inner thigh. each time, your legs quivered, desperate to clench closer together, to sever the gravitational pull of his thick fingers caving in on you.

“you know i need all of it, sweetie,” he disciplined you with a dark whisper, “can’t stop until you give me every last drop."

“s-s—sylus—"

he grunted. “no begging. be good for me, c’mon. you’re almost there."

you bucked up into another helpless whine. your mind was going numb at this point, blurring every thought that had nothing to do with his thumb circling your clit or his fingers rutting against you just right. you tightened your hold on him by a mere fraction, but he reacted accordingly, finally slowing down as you approached the end of your release.

he drew his fingers from you with a drenched slick, then sucked your arousal dripping down to his knuckles with a low, satisifed groan.

you could only recover with a lone sigh before he bowed forward again, that time to seal your lips with a lingering, lovestruck kiss.

he pulled back slightly, lips as shiny red as heart-shaped cherries. “you still want to try again?” he asked.

you nodded with a needy bite of your lip, and squeezed the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. his bulge, poking into his boxers, nudged your thigh as he shifted against you, enticing a dewy breath.

the weight of his tip alone was cruel—it stirred something primal and insatiable within you that you wouldn’t have known was there unless you met him. you’ve truly been obsessed with sylus's dick ever since you first saw it.

if only it would fit.

the past three times you and sylus tried to have sex, it simply refused to budge all the way through. you would earn an inch or so with every attempt, but still, he could never manage to slide fully inside you. you just needed sylus so miserably at this point that nothing would stop you from trying. especially with the way he was humping your leg to seek the friction of your thighs, soaking a small patch of his boxers with streaks of precum. he needed you just as badly, if not worse.

“please, sylus,” you sighed against his lips, “give it to me. already feels so good."

he knew better than to deny you, which is why he didn’t hesitate. with one tug at his boxers, his cock bobbed free, thick from the base all the way up, ribbed in veins, rosy and messy at the tip. you forgot to breathe every time you saw it—it was just so pretty. and damn heavy, too. its size should’ve intimidated you after all this time, but you could only feel eager as you stared down at it with sultry, siren eyes and a watered tongue. it hadn’t stopped bobbing since he took it out, like it was trying to hypnotize you. not only was the sheer length of it distracting, but the weight of his balls, too, that you couldn’t wait to clap against your pussy once you could finally handle him in his entirety. drops of precum leaked from his slit, slithering all the way down past the ridge of his tip.

“see that, sweetie?” he strained out, catching the drip of cum with his finger. “it’s drooling for you."

you sucked his finger into your mouth, then savored his thumb, all while he pinched and squeezed at the head of his cock. he clashed his mouth against yours with one last ravenous kiss before bending over the edge of the bed for a bottle of lube.

only once he lathered his dick until it was wet and smooth did he lean into you, hiking your legs around his waist. he always reached for your hand when he had you pinned beneath him, with an affectionate squeeze of his palm into yours like a heartbeat, fingers interlocked and solid. it rooted you to him, utterly and truly.

“ready?” he whispered close to your ear, “tell me when to stop."

you nodded, already a bit dazed by the groove of his tip prodding apart your soaked folds. then, ever so slowly, he breached into you with the tightest, stickiest squish from your wet heat.

the two of you sighed in unison, in a melody of rasped groans and breathless whimpers. he already stretched you so good—your lovely hole could meld to the width of his fingers, but strained beneath the weight of his cock, struggling to take its shape but efforting through it all the same. you winced, sinking your fingernails into the back of his hand and the bulk of his shoulder, but didn’t ween your hips away. pleasure pinched and nipped your tight core, but you wanted to feel him harder—deeper.

“that’s the tip,” he breathed out, voice slightly unsteady, “breathe with me. you’re taking it so well already. being such a sweet girl for me."

he fluttered a kiss over the edge of your mouth, tracing the seam with his tongue. then he pushed in again, and you gritted out a harsher groan that time. a burning coil hooked the pit of your stomach hard and fast, but released as soon as he stilled again.

“i know, sweetie,” he cooed, sweet like gooey candy, “i know, i know. but you can do it. i know you can. try a little bit more."

you hummed to agree, securing him with a tighter clutch of your legs around his waist. “i want it. please, keep going. don’t stop."

he cupped the heart-shaped curve of your face, stroking the corner of your eye to soften the singe of his cock burying deeper into you. you braced it, with your eyes shut tight and wilted whine after whine. you were stuffed so full—your cunt was practically choking on him. for every burning push there was the rewarding pull of your warmth suctioning around him—a pulse from your honeypot of nerves seeking more, a flicker or two from your swollen clit. your breath hitched when another tight cinch of pain trickled in sooner than you expected.

“look at me. right here, c’mon. look right here,” he panted.

your eyes fluttered open to find his, dark red as a blood moon, smokied with lust. your brows still scrunched close together, but you tried to soothe the tension by moving your hand away from his nail-bitten shoulder to trace the rigid lines of his mouth and his jaw.

he kissed the palm of your hand, and whispered, “good girl. there she is."

shockwaves rippled through you when he shifted his hips again, and you watched closely as his lips parted with a silent breath. he seeped in deeper, in one slow but fluid motion, that carved into you so good and sharp that you had to arch against him.

“fuck,” sylus groaned, then again in a faint whimper, “fuck, it’s in. it’s all the way in."

“yeah?” you whimpered back. “keep going then, sylus. need you to move."

he released your hand and sat upright, targeting his stare directly at the juncture where he disappeared completely inside of you. he knocked his head back, with a hard and heavy swallow.

“fuck,” he gritted out again, “that’s good. how is it this good, sweetie?"

he drew his hips back with a wince, paused for a breath, then eased back some more. the sound of him sliding out of you was pure filth—with a lingering slurp that caused your core to constrict around him tighter, sucking him back in.

“mmph—” he moaned through a shudder, “you’re gonna take it again for me, sweet girl?"

“yeah—hah—m-mmhm,” you whimpered back, all dizzy and soft.

that time, he sank back into you with much less resistance, following through to kiss your cervix with his tip in one slow-burn thrust. to feel all of him at once, clogged and stuffed to the point that you could overflow for him already, churned such intense pleasure within you, deeper than you had ever felt it before. your eyes crossed from the sheer euphoria of it all—you may even start hallucinating.

he shucked in and out of your trap for a cunt in one sweeping motion, finding a steady rhythm. your soaked heat welcomed him again and again with brief spasms and squeezes, doing all that it could to lure him back in.

his lips remained parted, a gateway for every fragile breath and wet whine that poured out of him one after another. brows fixated close together, stomach flexing, arms fidgeting, unable to hold you still and steady. he was such a mess for you after only three or four strokes. you couldn’t remember the last time you saw him like this—if at all.

he babbled out your name. then, “sweetheart—s-sweetie. it’s too good. i’m . . ."

he managed one last sigh, and a final fifth thrust that filled you to the brim, before releasing a breathless, fucked-out whine of relief. he clutched your hips tighter than he had all night, crucifying you to him as he spilled his hot and heavy load into you.

he apologized as soon as he came.

“i’m so sorry, sweetie. i can’t help myself. how was i supposed to know you would feel this fucking good?"

ꪆৎ⭑ 乇m’s masterlist! in case you’re interested in my other works!

#lads smut #sylus x reader

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owodi · 9 hours ago

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camellias

Word Count: 1K Warnings: hanahaki au, depictions of illness and blood, not proofread because my undiagnosed ass took 2 hours to write this

a/n: lost to abysswalker but it's okay *cries*

The sun streamed in through the window, warming the edges of your room. You sat quietly on the veranda, re-reading the same line of the book in front of you.

The nurses said you were healing well and that the worst was over. They had taken the flowers, the roots…but something else had gone with them. The thrum in your chest, the part that made you feel—euphoria, heartache, hope.

It was gone.

You remained under close observation. The doctors warned the surgery had saved your life but couldn’t erase the damage left behind: cognitive lapses, fatigue, and moments when reality seemed to blur around the edges.

“His Majesty is here to see you.”

The announcement came from the doorway, but you kept your eyes on the page. You didn’t need to look up. You had been able to recognize the footsteps by sound alone. You used to match them when you were on patrol.

Xavier stood at the threshold of the veranda, haloed by sunlight. He didn’t speak at first. He only looked at you. For a moment, he wondered if he still belonged in your world at all.

In another life, he might have expected you to laugh at the king’s hesitation.

“You cut your hair,” he said at last.

You reached up, fingertips brushing the ends that tickled the nape of your neck.

“It’s easier to maintain,” you replied.

Silence lingered, broken only by the wind whittling through the trees and a distant birdcall, like something from another life.

“How is Her Majesty?” you finally asked, though you didn’t turn around to acknowledge him.

Instead, you studied your hands. They still bore the callouses of a knight. You remembered what they’d held: your blade, gripped until your knuckles ached. You remembered the weight of armor pressing into your skin. You remembered bleeding for him. For the realm.

And you remembered choking on camellias alone in the dark.

Jeremiah had found you slumped behind the barracks, doubled over and shaking, coughing blood and petals until you thought your body might finally give out. He panicked and thought you were dying.

In some ways, he wasn't wrong.

“She’s well,” Xavier said softly.

You nodded, though it didn’t matter.

You felt him staring, as if trying to find some trace of the person you had been before. The knight who would have followed him to the end of the world. The one who stood a step behind his throne, who let her heart swell with something she could never say aloud.

But that person had died long ago.

You remembered the doctor informing you that the roots had punctured into your lung tissue, winding around your chest, leading to early signs of respiratory failure.

By then, the flowers weren’t just growing in your chest. They were consuming you, devouring you from the inside out, until there was no room left for anything but them.

You thought about Xavier then, though you couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was because you saw the man underneath the crown. The one who carried the weight of the realm on his shoulders, who would break himself before he let his kingdom fall.

You remembered when your illness began. It was the moment he stood before the court and announced who would stand at his side as queen.

In that instant, you felt like something splintered inside you. At first, you told yourself it was only stress, the strain of spending more hours than usual at the training grounds. But then came the sudden coughing fits, leaving the taste of iron and something bitter on your tongue.

Your breaths grew shallow, your chest ached, and one night you woke up clawing at your throat, certain you were dying.

And when you finally looked down at your bloodied hands, you saw the first crushed petals there.

You had sworn an oath to the throne, and you reminded yourself where your place would always be. Whatever you felt for Xavier had no bearing, so you buried your feelings and buried him deep, because that was what loyalty demanded.

But your heart had betrayed you all the same.

“Everyone’s been asking about you. They miss you at the castle.”

You didn’t respond. You just stared out the veranda, unmoved. The garden outside was in full bloom with wisteria, peonies and something yellow he couldn’t name.

“They’ve prepared your quarters. You can come home whenever you feel ready,” he offered, as if the word home still meant anything.

You finally turned your head and met his gaze. The fire that had once burned bright was now consumed by the darkness that had taken its place.

“I don’t think I miss anything anymore, your majesty."

Xavier stilled. He had never seen you like this.

He had known you for years. As a knight, a friend, and confidante. As someone who laughed with him between drills and shielded others on the battlefield.

But now only a shell remained. You were merely existing.

Somewhere a faint sting crept into his throat, taking root.

Had it been him? Had he done this?

You had already turned away, your attention drifting back to the book in your lap. You stared blankly at the page, reading words you no longer seemed to recognize.

⊹₊⟡⋆

The ride back to the palace passed in a blur. Xavier wasn’t sure if he’d said a word the entire journey. He dismounted his horse and stepped onto the castle grounds just as dusk unfurled across the realm.

He imagined his queen waiting for him on the steps of the castle, running halfway down to meet him. Or perhaps she'd be in the where she'd tease him for returning later than promised.

But as he approached the stairs, no one was waiting.

Instead, Charlie stepped forward and bowed deeply.

“Your Majesty, the envoy arrived ahead of schedule. Her Grace has already welcomed them in the throne room.”

Xavier blinked. “The envoy?”

“Yes, sire. They seemed…well acquainted.”

He gave a tight nod and brushed past him. His throat had begun to tighten the moment he dismounted, and he thought nothing of it. It was probably the dust his horse had kicked up.

He cleared it. Once. Twice. But the sensation lingered faintly of ash and something floral.

#lads x reader #xavier x reader #angst

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owodi · 10 hours ago

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"Lilia, how do I send a love letter to a human child using this black rectangle?" Malleus asked, holding a dead phone in one hand and a 30-page love letter in the other.

Lilia blinked a couple of times. He had lost count of how many times he had taught Malleus how to use a phone.

"Oh, this is so bad," was all Lilia could manage to squeeze out.

#twst x reader #malleus x reader #lilia vanrouge

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owodi · 22 hours ago

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OKAY I AM BACK AND I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA

What if the little twins attend an event with their parents and they all go for in matching outfits (imagine babies in tiny tuxedos omgshhhhh)

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I AM FERAL FOR YOUR SERIES

my dear!!! you’ve sent this a while ago (sorry for the delayed response huhu) & at the time i was also working on an event w the twinnies fic hehehe and i just realized i’d incorporated ur tuxedos idea 😭💕 ilysm thank u! have a snippet (hopefully i get to finish this soon)

But as the years progressed, and the relationship grew deeper and the undeniable call of your souls left you gasping for each other when apart— what you have has now turned into your greatest crime of all. And here you are, proclaiming it to the world.

In the form of two little Sylus-shaped boys in tiny tuxedos.

“Oh!” You swoon, taking a photo of them for the hundredth time. Lucian has begun to slouch in his spot since you placed him there, and Kyros is blinking sleepily.

“Mama, are’done?” Lucian asks. Little wiggles in his body begging him to move. He appreciates looking hamsum and sancy, as you called him, but he really just wants to go back to his dinosaurs.

“Yes, angel. Thank you.” You tell him, ushering him off the staircase and nudging him to run along. He does happily. Mobility limited by his tailored outfit, he waddles instead of runs back to his toys in the living room.

You lift Kyros up and squish his cheeks. “Sleepy, baby? You can nap.”

He shakes his head, pressing his face into your neck. His fingers come up to play with the necklace between your collarbones.

“Night party, woo-hoo.” he insists, chanting once more his and Lucian’s little script since you told them they were invited to the children’s support fundraiser the Hunter’s Association was throwing. Thrilled out of their minds that they get to stay up, they were asking all kinds of questions.

“Is games, mama?”

“Can bring mephie?”

“Need lunchbox?”

“Can bring Dinos?”

“Is nuggets? There nuggets?”

“Can bring biggies?”

They had been so excited leading up to the occasion. And now it baffles you, at you are all preparing to go, that they’re the most disinterested they’ve ever been.

You shake your head. Children are a mystery that you have no intention of solving but every joy of experiencing. “Let me just get your bags ready and then we can go.”

—

“There they are!” Tara swoons, approaching with arms outstretched to her sides with every intention to take you and your twins in her embrace. Kyros gasps and hides his face immediately into your hair, and Lucian moves gently behind your legs.

You tap Lucian’s head first, informing him that it’s just Auntie Tara which helps him move out ever so slightly and greet your coworker with a warm hug. Kyros continues to hide.

“Wow.” Tara whistles, holding Lucian’s face and turning it to inspect him gently. “You didn’t even try.”

You scoff. she’s right though, compared to Sylus, your genes didn’t have a fighting chance when it came to contributing any physical traits of yours onto his children. “Kyros, want to say hi?”

Kyros shakes his head. You give Tara an apologetic smile, but she waves it off. “It’s fine. I’ll wait.”

Lucian tugs on her dress from below. “Ti’Tara, my dino is shy.”

Tara coos in sympathy, taking the dinosaur from Lucian’s hands and giving it a gentle pat. “It’s okay, darling, the people here are nice. They’ll like you.”

still working on polishing this hehe but the thought of them in matching tuxedos HELPSBDKWMZ so cute 🤏🏽🤏🏽🤏🏽

much love!!! thank u for reading abt the little family 🥰

#lads x reader #sylus x reader

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owodi · 22 hours ago

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HIIIII! I really love ur writting n i have been wanting to ask how old luke & kieran in most of the stories are🧐 cuz in the game they somewhat 16 and i gues fast forward to Mc n Sylus having family they some what 20-21? Like still in colleges👀? (If they do go to one, but honnestly, I think Sylus care for the twins enough that he incentivize them to get a degree)

If so i just cant shake off the image of little twins barging in Luke & Kieran’s room and demand to be cuddle n play with while their big bros are doing an assigment that worth 30% of their credit💀

hehehe thank you for sending this in!!

i actually havent thought of their ages, just that they're young adults in their 20s, super excited to have baby siblings for the first time HAHAHA

but what a cute thought! i agree, sylus wouldn't hold back on resources for these two (like they're his own children fr). any physiological, psychological, academic, extracurricular needs to enhance their quality of life (sylus masks it as "to enhance your skillset" but really its just him spoiling his kids) is covered!

luke says to you he kinda wanna try acting/stunt-doubling? sylus scoffs. by chance, the next day there's an actor-stunt-coordinator mentor at the gym. kieran mentions having been interested in engineering? sylus blinks, likely bored, and walks away. three days later, there's an enrollment slip and a syllabus on kier's desk.

sylus is just really passionate about supporting his sons.

HUHU THE LITTLES HANGING AROUND IN THE BIG TWINS' RESPECTIVE BEDROOMS IS SO CUTE (edit: 2hrs later... this got carried away again. i hope this vision aligns with your lovely prompt ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕)

kyros & kieran | luke & lucian literally just sy's kids messing around. luke's a theatre/acting major & kieran's an engineering major

I'm seeing kyros & kieran:

"Keewi, a buddle." kyros says, pressing a clay lump into kieran's one hand. startling him (kyros is very quiet) from his focus on the soldering iron.

"Ro, what are you doing here?" his voice pitches higher as kyros starts to climb his pant leg, with every intention to wrench himself between his brother and the work table—because this is important.

kyros coos gently. "es-coos me."

kieran scrambles to push the tools away from the ledge of the table, far from kyros's back. his arm waves frantically to rid the air of smoke and the fumes of melting metal.

"lookit da buddle," kyros demands, little brows forming a v together on his forehead when kieran still hasn't looked into his palm.

meanwhile, the menacing screwdrivers are rolling down. small nails and screwa slide and zigzag their way closer to the kid's body and kieran is stressing out. "Ro, we can play outside."

"pease lookit da buddle!" kyros squeaks in frustration. he has things to do, after all.

kieran sighs, opening his hand. there, on his palm, rests exactly what he expected— a lump of blue clay, impressed with tiny finger dents and the ridges of his own hand prints.

he doesn't know what he's looking at, really. but the pride on kyros's face is enough to make him crack a smile. "it's nice, buddy."

"lookit." says kyros again, a plastic giraffe now in his fingers. which he tilts forward, making its nose hit the thing of clay. "schlooop."

"oh." kieran nods, finally getting it. his heart melts like metal under a hundred degrees. "a puddle."

then, kyros's little nose scrunches. "keewi, stinky."

kieran panics as it clicks in his mind. And he's running kyros out of his room, away from the smoke—

Later, when it hardens, kyros's giraffe gets to drink from the melted plate. Now dubbed, "shiny buddle."

luke & lucian:

this is his third take. one didn't go well—dumb camera—, two was somewhat fine besides the sound of the door opening behind the camera.

now, take three would have a moody, ghost haired little boy clinging to his chest.

"wook." lucian murmurs sleepily, playing with the lock of his brother's hair he can reach on the nape of his neck.

"yeah, stink?" luke hisses as his camera glitches out again. picture in the preview flickering, presets disappearing. video frozen on his half-blinking, startled face. he groans.

meanwhile, lucian's nose has scrunched up. "m'not 'tink."

with one hand reselecting presets, luke kisses his brother's silly little head, "no, you're not. i just wanted to call you that."

"why?"

"cause it's fun."

"no it not," lucian frowns. "mama take me a bath."

luke snorts. a dimple of a smirk on his mischievous features. "okay, okay. you smell like purple flowers."

lucian settles and snuggles up to him again. "tank yoo.''

giving up on his self-tape for now, he flicks the camera with his fingers like he would kieran's forehead and walks back to his bed, finally propping lucian up properly. "okay, smelly, there's a party in my room because...?"

lucian baps his chin. "i no 'melly!"

"yeah you do," luke grins, nuzzling his cheek. overexaggerated sniffing as he tickles. "you smelly good."

lucian giggles, pushing his face away as he begins to nip on his cheeks.

"did you lose your way to kier's room?"

"no." lucian grins, gradients of a giggle still in his voice. "kee-wan still sweepin'. and keero. and papa too. no friends to play."

luke's brows knit together. he's taken by the lonely glaze of sadness over lucian's face. how something so simple as waking alone can be shattering to a little heart. a frown tugs on the corners of his mouth. "oh, i see."

lucian blinks at him. "wanna to play, poopie?"

luke's sadness morphs to a deadpan annoyance. "that's... not how you do it."

"poo-poo!" lucian laughs, because he thinks he's the funniest one in this family. he screams when luke tosses him up and catches him.

"alright, smelly, you win. I'll do my self-tape later." luke rolls his eyes. seemingly conceding against his will, but really he'll take any excuse to procrastinate. his camera light blinks from the distance.

"huh," he checks the footage it had recorded. his possessed camera having a mind of its own paying off for once. for it had zoomed in and caught every microexpression on his face during his conversation with lucian.

"ooo, hamsum." lucian coos, watching the playback too. half referring to luke, and half referring to just the top of his head and his eyes peeking in the frame.

luke nods, satisfied. and greatly in shock, but he won't question why the powers that be sent him a miracle in the form of a tiny booger baby in the shape of his boss-father.

luke shuts his camera off and flips lucian to hold him by the ankles. suddenly, he's a theatrical villain. laughing maniacally like the cartoons and swinging the little boy around like a hammer throw. "alright, smelly, in the toilet you go."

"noo!" lucian's laughter bounces off the walls as he squirms. finally having someone to play with.

this was SO FUN to do omg i love the biggies & the littles. thanks for sending in that ask! they would probably be really good students & use their skills and majors & totally crush sy's missions. easy peasy.

thank you for reading!! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

#lads x reader #sylus x reader

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owodi · 22 hours ago

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Imagine a crossover within the famous significant other LADS au. ft. Sylus' significant other perspective.

Imagine the vlog begins with a smooth pan across a sunny café terrace somewhere nestled between a rooftop garden and a street so picturesque it might as well be fictional. Birds chirp faintly. Wind brushes past hanging plants. The soft clatter of forks and low music add a cozy urban symphony.

Imagine the camera turns back to you, sunglasses perched on your nose, breeze teasing the strands of your hair, and Sylus casually leaning against the chair beside you like he owns the place and the air itself owes him rent.

"Okay, okay." You grin at the camera, your voice light and warm. "Today's vlog is a little different. You've already met Sylus before-" You tilt the camera just in time to catch him raising an eyebrow, his sunglasses flashing like he’s ready to interrogate the sun itself.

"... Yes, the man, the myth, the bouquet-wielding chaos. But today… we're hanging out with two of my closest friends. And more importantly… Their boyfriends." Sylus side eyes you with quiet suspicion. "Should I be concerned?" "Deeply."

Imagine the video then cuts into a wide shot of Zayne Li and his partner walking up the steps toward the table. Zayne's in a crisp black button down tucked into tailored slacks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, loafers somehow spotless despite the city. He carries a cup of tea. His partner, your dearest celebrity friend, is laughing, phone already lifted for their own segment.

Imagine the way you whispered to the camera, giddy. "He doesn't know yet." Because the twist? Every single boyfriend is wearing the exact same outfit.

Imagine they were all wearing a black button down. Rolled sleeves. Slim black pants. Identical loafers. The kind of ensemble hot people in dramas wear when walking in slow motion. The three of you, your little trio of deviant lovers, had pulled it off flawlessly.

Imagine the way Zayne sits and look around before he freezes. "I thought this was a brunch, not a uniform meeting." "Babe." Your celebrity friend chimes in, clearly biting back a grin. "You look great." "I look identical to-"

Imagine, just in time Caleb Xia arrived, stepping onto the terrace, all in confidence and cat hair, his dark jacket slung over one arm. He spots Zayne. Spots Sylus. Spots you, the camera. Then stops dead.

Imagine, his partner, your dearest streamer friend was barely keeping it together. They're wheezing. "You've got to be kidding me." Caleb mutters. You pan the camera down. He's wearing the same outfit. Exact same shirt. Same pants. Same smug silhouette.

"This." Caleb says as his eyes narrowed at his partner. "Was sabotage." Your streamer friend shrugs between giggles. "I just said wear black. You picked that yourself." Sylus clinks his glass. "Matching uniforms. Love that for us."

Imagine the way laughter fills the frame. Then the vlog cuts to quick, chaotic snippets. The three boyfriends sitting side by side, looking various degrees of amused and betrayed.

Imagine Zayne was quietly unbuttoning one extra button to look different. Caleb grumbling. "You don't even shop where I shop." To Sylus. Sylus smirking. "Maybe I own the place." Your celebrity friend whispering. "This is peak multiverse behavior." To you while still filming.

Imagine there was another cut. As the waiter brings the bill. Caleb reaches. "I got it." "No, you don't." Sylus says calmly sliding his card forward. Zayne while sipping tea with surgical precision. "We could always split." "Absolutely not." Caleb and Sylus say in sync. Laughter explodes again. The three of you lean back in your chairs, victorious.

Imagine then cut to mock interview style confessionals. You were shown. "I thought Sylus would lose it, but he's thriving. It's actually terrifying." Then comes next was your streamer friend. "Would do this again. Next time? Matching hoodies. No warning." Then it looked like they remembered something. "We'll also make sure to bring the other two as well." Lastly, your celebrity friend. "I just want to know who wore it best. Don't lie to me. It was Zayne, wasn't it?"

Imagine there was another snippet. It was the bookstore trip. Zayne while eyeing a medical novel says. "This is completely inaccurate." Caleb while flipping through a history book. "This would never work in the field." And Sylus whole holding a fashion magazine. "They really printed this haircut?"

Imagine, somewhere between gelato, items and bag shopping, the competitive draw back. They hand each other drinks without comment. Caleb brushes a smudge off Zayne's sleeve. Sylus opens a door for them both with a lazy. "After you, gentlemen."

Imagine as the golden hour spills over the rooftop bar as the last part of the vlog settles into softness. The camera catches a quiet moment.

Imagine Caleb and his streamer laughing as they share fries. Zayne letting his partner wear his scarf while they scroll through photos. Sylus seated beside you, one hand lazily draped behind your back, sunglasses pushed into his hair, gaze content.

Imagine you glance over Sylus. "Be honest. Are you mad I tricked you into wearing the same thing as them?" He pauses, eyes drifting over to Caleb and Zayne was now in deep debate about aircraft versus triage protocols. Then, quietly, warmly, he smirks. "Darling, I would've worn matching bunny ears if I knew it'd make you laugh like that."

Imagine the way you blink. Smiling slowly. "Really? Even if I made you wear a shirt that said 'Property of my vlogger partner'?" "Only if I get to pick the font." He murmurs.

Imagine the way both of you laugh. His hand finds yours. And then just before the footage fades out he leans in, presses a soft kiss to your temple and smiles against your skin.

Imagine the last last image was a still figure of the three couples. You tucked under Sylus's arm. Caleb rolling his eyes fondly at his giggling partner. And Zayne softly brushing a crumb off his lover's cheek.

Imagine there was an overlaid in cursive. To being real. To being ours. To the men who showed up. Even in the same shirt.

Top Comments Section

1sht1kll: HOW ARE ALL THREE BOYFRIENDS HOT. HOW.

Ladsslave: this isn't a vlog it's a boyfriend multiverse

Abcdeffg: sylus CALMLY offering violence. caleb flexing rank. zayne sipping tea like he knows the ending. i love this trio.

2days3days: the way sylus FEEDS THEM ICE CREAM LIKE A MOB BOSS

Ztrope: petition to force them into a calendar shoot. matching outfits. again.

clote4: I hate to admit it but this was adorable. I'm smiling. I'm actually smiling.

dmnlf: zayne holding tea like a weapon, caleb holding the receipt like it insulted him, sylus holding the power of god and money

1233kill: I love that they tried to argue but ended up being soft boyfriends anyway 😭😭😭

Ladsslave: the couples… the chaos… the subtle love flexes. i'm unwell.

Ztrope: best. vlog. ever. part 2 WHEN?? Also, other 2???? WHO?!

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

#lads x reader #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #caleb x reader

346 notes · View notes

owodi · 23 hours ago

Text

I Ship Us (Unfortunately)

CW: suggestive content, university au, reader is also a fujoshi, snowcrow mentioned. AN: a silly and stupid fic to make up for the dark fics I've written lately :3 part 2 will be a smut (please ignore any mistakes)

Popular!Caleb is the campus heartthrob, athletic, clean-cut, and at the top of his class. He’s got a scholarship for both academics and sports. Wakes up at 6 AM to run laps. Meal preps. Drinks green smoothies. Avoids junk food like the plague. The kind of guy who actually reads the course outline.

Loser!reader yes, you, is the exact opposite. A degenerate fujoshi who treats instant noodles like they’re air. You can’t remember the last time you had a vegetable. You sleep through lectures and live for your spicy BL webcomic, drawing extremely detailed romance between fictional men who just so happen to resemble real people on campus, especially that tall, white-haired hunk who shares a dorm with the med student on a full scholarship (pure coincidence, obviously). Slightly… unwashed. Your room smells like cup ramen, anime merch, and old convention wristbands.

He has a ten-step skincare routine. You use dry shampoo and prayers.

He’s everyone's dream guy. You run a locked Twitter account with the name @/bottombiased38 and have no shame about it.

So, how the hell does he fall for you?

–

It was one of those required electives — “Youth and Culture”—the kind of class where engineering majors and med students mingled awkwardly with literature nerds and artsy types. Everyone was there for the credit, not the passion.

Caleb walked in right on schedule, three minutes before class started. He always arrived early enough to get a decent seat, never late enough to feel rushed. He had his routine: run at six, protein shake, double-shot espresso, and then class. Everything in his life was precise and structured.

This class wasn’t part of that structure.

You had gotten there first.

Slouched deep in your chair like you were trying to disappear into it, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, glasses slipping down your nose, and a too-worn beanie hanging loosely over your head. You looked like you hadn’t seen the sun in days. Your energy screamed, I was up until 3 am reading filth, and I regret nothing.

Your tablet sat upright on your desk, brightness cranked to maximum, displaying a very not safe for life full-colour boys’ love manhwa. It was unapologetically…explicit with legs spreading, tongues out, and very detailed anatomy. By panel three, clothes were gone, and someone was being pinned against a chalkboard. It was beautiful, dramatic, and deeply unholy.

You were just reading it so casually and publicly, like it was a class reading on postmodern philosophy.

Caleb froze mid-step behind you.

He blinked. Once. Twice. The only available seat in the third row? Right behind you.

And so, despite every cell in his disciplined, green-smoothie-drinking body telling him to run, he offered a quiet “hey” to the people on his row before sinking into the only free seat.

That was the start of the ritual or routine, whatever you call it.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, you arrived early. Same hoodie, same seat, and a new filthy chapter. You never dimmed the screen, you didn’t hide what you were reading, and eventually, Caleb started glancing, then peeking…then following.

By the third week, he recognised one of the love interests. By the fifth, he looked almost annoyed when your Wi-Fi lagged and the next panel wouldn’t load.

Still, neither of you said a word.

Until one day, just as someone on-screen was getting dramatically tied to a chair and confessing their forbidden desires, you tilted your tablet slightly, just enough, and said with a deadpan expression, “You don’t have to lurk. I can send you the link.”

You didn’t even turn around. You just kept scrolling, like it was a completely normal thing to say at 9:01 am in a lecture hall.

Behind you, silence.

You could practically hear Caleb’s soul evacuating his perfect, protein-filled body.

And that’s when you knew—the campus heartthrob had been silently following your smut reads for weeks, and now he was too far gone to stop.

–

In the next class, he didn’t sit behind you.

He sat diagonally behind you, one seat off to the side, as if that makes any difference. You still feel him glancing. Still sense the tension in his posture when your screen lights up with a new chapter, this time involving a very emotionally repressed demon lord and his half-human servant. Chains. Eye contact. Lots of ‘FWOP THWOP.’

You pretended not to notice.

But after class, while you were packing up your things, he approached.

His shadow fell over your desk before he spoke, tall and intimidating with a textbook in hand, hoodie sleeves pushed neatly up his forearms like he’s ready for gym class and a morality debate.

You glanced up, pushing your glasses higher on your nose. He swallowed, clearing his throat.

“Hey,” he said, low and tight, like the situation is physically painful for him. “About earlier.”

You blink innocently. “Which earlier?”

He frowns. His ears are slightly red. “I wasn’t…reading it.”

Your eyebrows lift, but you say nothing.

“The thing on your screen. That— That wasn’t— I didn’t read any of it.”

You just stare.

He crosses his arms. “Can you not, like… talk about it? With anyone?”

You snort. “You think I’m gonna run around campus yelling, ‘Caleb reads yaoi over my shoulder during humanities lectures?”

“I don’t!” he snaps, a little too fast. “Because I don’t.”

You tilt your head. “Uh-huh.”

“I was just—I happened to glance. That’s all. It’s not—I don’t even know what was going on. The writing was—bad.”

“Sure,” you say, fighting a smirk. “You seemed pretty invested in that professor-student plotline last week.”

He looks like he might combust. “That was a coincidence.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Also, it wasn’t even realistic. Like, who just makes out in a lab coat during finals week? That’s— That’s not how med school works.”

You raise an eyebrow. “...So you did read it.”

He froze, and you grinned.

“Just—keep your voice down,” he muttered, face hot as he backed away like you’re the dangerous one in this exchange. “And stop tilting your screen. I wasn’t looking anyway.”

You hummed. “Okay, Caleb.”

He paused at the door, turned halfway back, and for a split second, you saw something flicker in his expression. Resignation, maybe.

“...If you happen to get the next chapter early,” he mumbles, “just—don’t bring it to class.”

“Sure,” you said sweetly, already planning to do the exact opposite.

–

You don’t know what sins you committed to deserve this group assignment, but you must’ve pissed off at least three gods, your mother, and your disappointed ancestors watching from the spirit realm.

Because out of all the people in your humanities class, you get paired with Caleb.

Golden boy. Campus sweetheart. Tall, glowy, handsome. The same man who drinks spinach smoothies for fun and has never once worn a wrinkled shirt. The one who very publicly denied reading spicy manhwa over your shoulder and then very privately asked if you had the next chapter.

You had suggested the library.

He insisted on your dorm.

You warned him. Repeatedly. “It’s a little messy,” you said. “I live like a raccoon with student debt,” you said.

But when he stepped inside, Caleb physically recoiled.

Like you’d punched him with a sock full of butter.

“...Oh my God.”

You stood by the door, unapologetic, half-shrugging as you nudged an empty cup noodle container out of the way with your foot.

“Welcome to the gooner cave.”

His eyes scanned the chaos: towers of manga and half-crushed chip bags, anime body pillows (one face-down, suspiciously), a crusty cup with three pens and a fork in it, and your laundry—the heap—an unholy mountain of socks, hoodies, bras, and one sad Kirby t-shirt you swore was still clean. And scattered across your shelves, in full view: lewd figures of busty anime girls with their tits and asses unapologetically on display.

He dropped his bag. His voice went up an octave.

“Young lady.”

You blinked. “What?”

“This is a biohazard.”

You shrugged again and flopped onto your bed. “We’re here to do a presentation on postmodern identity, not judge my lifestyle.”

He didn’t even respond.

He just took his hoodie off, rolled up his sleeves, and went straight to the pile of laundry like he was preparing for battle. A brave, foolish soldier, picking through that disaster zone with nothing but sheer will and his bare hands.

“Get. Up. We are cleaning this dungeon.”

You groaned. “Why?”

“Because I can smell despair and possible fungal growth.”

You muttered something about being bullied. He ignored it.

He picked up a pair of your socks.

Then a bra.

Then something that might have once been underwear but now resembled a very sad scarf.

“OH MY GOD.”

You looked over lazily. “Those are clean... adjacent.”

“You are washing these. Now.”

You laughed. “Or what?”

He turned, eyes wide with righteous fury, holding your tablet, your holy grail of yaoi filth.

“If you don’t wash these within the next twenty minutes, I will snap this in half and toss it out the window.”

You gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

A pause.

Then, slowly, you stood up and started dragging your laundry basket toward the hall washing machines, muttering like a cursed peasant.

As you left, Caleb started wiping down your desk with wet wipes from his own bag, like he knew this would happen.

You turned to look back at him, narrow-eyed.

“So we’re not doing the project today?”

He didn’t even glance up. “Not until you learn how to separate colours and stop cuddling expired cup noodles like they’re emotional support.”

“But they are—”

His glare cut you off, sharp enough to kill the rest of the sentence in your throat.

Honestly? Kind of hot. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

–

After successfully coercing you into washing your mountain of laundry, Caleb didn’t rush out. Instead, he lingered, determined to impose some order on your ‘gooner cave.’

While tidying, his eyes landed on a battered sketchbook half-buried under a pile of manga and snack wrappers.

Curious and maybe a little bored, he flipped it open.

The pages were filled with detailed art and handwritten dialogue bubbles. It was a webcomic, or maybe several.

One series caught his attention right away: “SnowCrow.”

The cover depicted a tall, striking white-haired man with red eyes and a mysterious aura, standing beside another figure with glasses, someone Caleb couldn’t quite place but who looked oddly familiar.

Flipping through the pages, Caleb found himself pulled into intricate panels brimming with dramatic tension, fantasy battles, and surprisingly well-written emotional arcs. It was intense, raw, and nothing like what he expected from you. Turns out, you were actually… a good storyteller. Not just some degenerate whose life purpose was to goon over fictional men.

Then, turning the page, he found another story, this one set on a college campus, featuring two guys who looked suspiciously like him and his best friend.

They were named—to his surprise—Caleb and Gideon.

The comic showed snapshots of their friendship, late-night study sessions, quiet talks on the quad, and a couple of awkward glances traded in the library. Then there was one chapter that went further: something raw and messy, hinting they’d almost done the deed before it cut away at the last second.

Caleb felt his chest tighten and his ears burn red.

He sat there frozen, still flipping through pages, realising this webcomic wasn’t just mindless BL thirst. It read like a secret diary, except now it wasn’t so secret.

Just as he was trying to wrap his head around it, you walked back in, arms full of freshly folded laundry.

You caught him red-handed, hunched over your sketchbook, and didn’t even blink.

“Find something interesting?” you teased, dropping the laundry beside him, grin wide.

Caleb jumped a little, ears flaming.

“I—I wasn’t—”

You laughed, holding up the clean laundry like it was proof of innocence.

“Don’t worry. I’m not ashamed. You’re officially initiated into the chaos now.”

He huffed out a shaky breath, half embarrassed, half amused, ears still burning.

“So… SnowCrow, huh?”

You nodded, completely shameless.

“Fantasy drama. Totally not based on real people.”

“And the other one?”

“That’s… uh… loosely inspired by some real campus drama, buuuut don’t get any ideas.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself.

“No promises.”

–

Somehow, after cleaning your dorm, you and Caleb became... friends.

You didn’t mean for it to happen. One second, he was threatening to snap your tablet over your mountain of laundry; the next, he was texting you about lecture notes and asking if you wanted to grab coffee after class.

He always ordered something respectable, green tea or straight black coffee, like the responsible adult he apparently was. You? You got bubble tea with three toppings, extra syrup, and the glycaemic index of a war crime.

It wasn’t a normal friendship by any means.

People on campus were stunned. Confused. Mildly afraid. The campus heartthrob and the chaotic fujoshi who openly read smut in public? It was like seeing a golden retriever willingly hang out with a sewer rat. A walking 4.0 GPA paired with someone who couldn’t name the current Prime Minister but could recite every line of dialogue from a toxic seme/uke ship.

It made zero sense.

So naturally, it became iconic.

Then suddenly, he was showing up outside your dorm with tote bags like it was normal.

“We’re going shopping,” he’d say like it was a threat.

“Shopping for what?”

“Soap.”

All because of that one time he caught sight of your bathroom shelf, saw your single crusty 13-in-1 body wash (for hair, face, body, soul, and sins), and just stood there silently for five full seconds before whispering, completely deadpan:

“I think my lifespan shortened just by reading that label.”

“It smells like watermelon,” you shrugged.

He looked genuinely offended.

“How is your face not melting off your skull? Who approves this?!”

“That’s because I pray to Yaoi Jesus,” you said, completely serious.

“Yaoi... what?”

You pointed to the shelf, right next to the lewd anime girls with their tits out, there sat a blue-haired figure chained up like a sacrificial offering (Aoba Seragaki, obviously).

“Yaoi Jesus.”

That’s how you ended up at the drugstore on a random Saturday, standing in front of an overwhelming wall of skincare. Caleb explained what toner was like; he was reciting sacred scripture:

“This one’s for oily skin. And this—please, for the love of God, please start using this. It’s a gentle exfoliant. Gentle.”

“I thought exfoliating was a scam.”

“So is your entire morning routine.”

You held up a neon pink loofah with cat ears.

“Can I get this?”

He paused.

“...Yeah. But only because it’s aggressively on-brand for you.”

Somewhere between the sheet masks, the new towel set he made you buy (“Your current one is basically a damp bacteria blanket,” in his words), and the 2-for-1 shampoo deal you snuck into his cart, things got…easy.

You started texting about class, about BL cliffhangers, and about whether that SnowCrow plot twist counted as emotional terrorism (it did).

He started sending you memes at 1 am.

You started rating his meal prep photos like a snobby food critic.

He still judged your life choices.

You still teased him for being a golden retriever in sneakers.

But slowly, awkwardly, and…comfortably, you became each other’s routine.

And maybe he didn’t mind that so much.

–

You were half-joking when you invited Caleb.

“Wanna come with me to my favourite café this weekend? It’s anime-themed.”

“Sure,” he said, without even blinking.

You stared at him. “You… know what that means, right?”

“Anime Café. Yes, I’ve watched AOT.”

You just smiled. He had no idea.

It hits him the moment you walk through the door.

The walls were pastel pink and plastered with life-sized cardboard cutouts of anime boys, complete with printed dialogue boxes like “Would you like extra whipped cream, Senpai?” and “Sweet or spicy? I can be both for you <3”

The staff wore cosplay and your server had fox ears and a frilly apron so ruffled it looked like it came from an idol stage. The menu? Full of drinks named “Uke’s First Time,” “Melon Honeymoon Sparkle,” and “Dark Seme Latte.”

Caleb stopped dead in the doorway, shoulders stiffening like he’d been smacked with an airhorn. His gaze swept across the sparkly posters and suggestive merch and then slowly turned to you.

His eyes narrow. “...You liar,” he said under his breath, voice dry as bone. “This isn’t just an anime café. This is a BL café.”

And you can’t help it, your grin only widened.

He followed slowly, as if sitting down might infect him with glitter.

“Why is the water in a mason jar shaped like a potion bottle?”

“Because aesthetics.”

“Why is the grilled cheese called ‘Forbidden Bond’?”

“Because they know their audience.”

He pointed at the menu. “What about this ‘Double BL Burger’—two patties…two flavours?”

“Just like the perfect seme and uke combo.”

He opened the laminated menu and stared at the illustrated seme vs uke drink pairings chart for a full fifteen seconds before lowering it and giving you the most deadpan look you’ve ever seen.

“What exactly is a seme?”

Your smile stretched like a Cheshire cat.

“Would you like the long version or the traumatising one?”

“...Short. Clinical. Minimal eye contact.”

You leaned in.

“Okay. So in BL, a seme is the dominant one. The one doing the—”

“Nope.” He put a hand up. “Never mind. I already regret this.”

You ordered him the “Seme Special Cold Brew” just to mess with him.

When the server brought it over and set it down with a wink and a “Hope you’re ready to dominate your day~!” Caleb looked like his soul was about to exit through the top of his head.

But he drank it anyway.

You sipped your “Uke’s Sweet Submission Strawberry Shake” through a heart-shaped straw and smiled. “You’ll be back.”

“No, I won’t.”

He said it with the same energy he used when he said he wouldn’t read your manhwa or manga chapters anymore. (He always does.)

“This is… unhinged,” he muttered, glancing at the maid café performance happening on the tiny stage across the room.

You leaned your chin on your hand, watching him.

“Still came though.”

He sighed, leaned back, and sipped the rest of his semen seme drink as if it personally offended him.

“Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta supervise you.”

It started as background noise, an announcement over the café speakers, some cheerful maid's voice echoing from the tiny stage:

“It’s time for our BL TRIVIA SHOWDOWN~! Sign up at the counter! Winner gets a full collector’s bundle of classic and spicy BL volumes, sealed with love and smut kyaaa~”

You perked up immediately. “OHHH I’m signing up—”

But before you could even move, the roster filled up.

“Sorry,” the staff said. “Limited slots. But! We still need people for tie-breaker rounds! Want to be our audience standby?”

You dragged Caleb to the front row like a war prize. “C’mon, maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Or maybe I’ll need a priest after this,” he grumbled, but didn’t pull away.

Ten minutes later, the final tie-breaker round kicked off — and just as luck (or fate) would have it, one contestant’s phone rang. They ducked out, and the host’s gaze swept the crowd… then zeroed in on Caleb.

“You! Tall, suspiciously handsome guy in the black hoodie!” they called out. “Wanna help us break the tie?”

“I—what—no, I’m not—”

“Come on! It’s just one question! For the tragic glory of love!”

Before he could protest, you gave him a not-so-gentle shove. “Go! You got this, champ. Channel all the times you’ve seen me screaming and crying over panels at 2 am.”

He gave you a deeply betrayed look as he stepped on stage, rubbing the back of his neck and his jaw tight with panic.

The final question was:

“In the hit BL manga ‘Touch Within the Abyss,’ what was the name of the book that Chinatsu-san read to Kasumi-san?”

You blinked.

Caleb blinked.

Then, without even thinking, he muttered:

“...The Dolphin and the Sea Snake.”

The host gasped. “THAT’S CORRECT!!”

The crowd cheered.

Your jaw dropped.

He stood there frozen, staring straight ahead like he’d just blacked out. The host shoved a massive gift bag into his arms, bursting with limited edition BL manga, stickers, and one sparkly laminated “Certified Seme Energy” badge.

You practically launched out of your seat.

“OH MY GOD, YOU ACTUALLY WON.”

“I guessed,” he muttered, stunned.

“You read the entire thing, admit it. You probably cry over it too.”

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, still dazed, he turned to you and shoved the prize bag into your arms.

“Here. You’ll appreciate this more than I ever could.”

Your eyes lit up behind your glasses, like they actually lit up.

You held the bag like it was a sacred treasure. Your grin split your face in half as you gushed over each volume, each print, each smutty sticker sheet.

“I’ve been trying to collect these for months. Do you know how expensive the special edition with the bathhouse bonus chapter is?!”

You beamed up at him, all sparkly eyes and giddy excitement.

And that was when Caleb’s chest went tight.

Too tight.

His heart stuttered, then thumped. Hard.

You looked ridiculous and ecstatic and so unapologetically you, and he felt something dangerous shift inside him.

“No,” he told himself silently. “No. No no no no—”

Because this couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. You were a mess. A degenerate. A walking stack of yaoi panels and questionable hygiene.

And yet…yet he couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop hearing the way you laughed like no one was watching. Couldn’t ignore the fact that his heartbeat was now slamming against his ribs like it was trying to escape.

“No,” he whispered again under his breath.

“I am not attracted to the BL goblin.”

But he was, and he was screwed.

Bonus:

#lads x reader #caleb x reader

196 notes · View notes

owodi · 1 day ago

Text

A Leaf from Tomorrow

SUMMARY: you were just trying to get some food when you are suddenly faced with a child who is freezing the cafeteria. but the most surprising thing was that he called you mother and has an undeniable resemblance to both yourself and malleus.

PAIRING: malleus draconia x reader

WARNINGS: biological children are implied and the usage of mother

NAVIGATION: Twisted Wonderland Masterlist | Diasomnia Masterlist

It was time you put your foot down and stop your food from being stolen. Well, you didn't really put your foot down. You just told your friends that you would eat later in the cafeteria when they all went. It was a drastic measure, but you couldn't continue living like that.

Every time you, Deuce, Ace, and Grim ate together, you never got nearly enough food in your stomach, because Ace and Grim seemed to believe that your food was also their food. So now you were on your way to have lunch on your own. Hopefully, someone you knew is also still there. Otherwise, it will be super awkward to sit at a table with a bunch of strangers. It will make you self-conscious of how you eat...

But it seems you didn't need to worry about eating right now.

A group of students came frantically running from the cafeteria, nearly knocking you over in the process. You barely got out of the way in time by stepping between two statues in the hallway.

One of your fellow students seemed to have the same idea, because he squeezed himself beside you, so he could catch his breath for a moment.

"What is going on? Why is everyone running?" you asked him, seizing the opportunity to get answers without needing to possibly get involved in the chaos.

The unknown student took a few heavy breaths before answering. "An attack! Someone is freezing the cafeteria. I think some students even got frozen."

"What?" You were in disbelief that it was really that bad. "Are you sure it's not just a prank from a few mischievous students or ghosts?"

"I know what I saw. That definitely wasn't a prank!" the student said, clearly offended you’d even suggest it.

You turned to the entrance of the cafeteria when you felt the temperature in the hallway drop. You couldn't see anything from your place. But you could feel the pressure of magic in the air. It felt powerful. So it must be true what the student said. But there were only a handful of things that could charge the air with this amount of magic.

"Was it an Overblot?" you asked the student, now sharing his panic.

"I don't know. Do you think I stayed long enough to check?" he snapped at you, before his voice returned to a more civilized tone. "I don't think I saw blot ink or a phantom anywhere... But does it even matter? We should get outta here and let someone else deal with whatever is in the cafeteria."

The student didn't wait for you and instead sprinted off. You wanted to follow, but stopped when you suddenly heard what sounded like the hysterical cry of a child.

Your breath hitched as the temperature dipped again, cold nipping at your cheeks and frosting the edges of the hallway tiles. The crack of ice spreading echoed faintly from the cafeteria doors. And then that cry came again.

Who would bring a child to Night Raven College? And why would they be alone?

The impulse to run warred with your instincts. But something about the sound rooted you in place. A chill that had nothing to do with ice crept up your spine.

So once again, throwing any sense of self-preservation out the window, you decided to investigate the cafeteria.

As you approached the entrance, a thin layer of ice curled and crept across the floor beneath your feet. The temperature was dropping as if the air itself recoiled with sadness.

And then you saw it.

The cafeteria doors were open, hanging slightly ajar, frost spiderwebbing from their hinges. The cafeteria was a frozen winter scene. Tables were rimmed with rime. Plates of forgotten lunches sat frozen mid-bite. Students who hadn’t escaped in time were partially encased in thick magical ice. Thankfully, it didn't seem like they were injured. They are just trapped.

And in the center of it all, curled up and trembling within a growing circle of frost, was a boy.

He couldn’t have been older than five or six. His hands covered his face as sobs wracked his tiny frame. You were struck by the sight of such a young child in this place. A child who seemed so out of place amidst the suffering he unintentionally caused.

The ice creeped outward with each of his hiccupping sobs, the magic surging with raw, unchecked emotion. His hair shared the same color as yours. Small horns peeked out from beneath the tousled locks. They were curved, and unmistakably draconic.

Your breath hitched.

Horns.

The resemblance to Malleus was impossible to ignore. Not just the horns, but also the gentle curve of the boy’s brow, and the elegant bone structure of his tear-stained face. But there was something in his eyes, when he finally looked up at you. They were wide, watery, and impossibly green. But lacking the sharp edge Malleus would have had. The boy's eyes were softer and his nose cute. That hit deeper.

Not like Malleus. Like... you.

You looked at the boy in silence for a few moments, not sure what to say. "Eh... Are you hurt?" you asked eventually your tone of voice awkward, as you tried to smile reassuringly at him.

The boy's big, round eyes were staring at you. He blinked a few times. "M-mother...?"

Huh?

Before you could ask or clarify anything, the boy ran toward you and launched himself into your arms. His tiny frame seemed to hide an impossible strength, because you felt like he would actually snap your spine if he hugged you any tighter. "Mother!!"

You were as frozen in place as the unfortunate students, who didn't get away in time. You didn't know how to handle this situation. You were pretty sure you didn't spawn a child in your time in Twisted Wonderland. The only thing coming close to a child you took care of was your ever-hungry cat-weasel companion. Certainly not a real breathing kid.

Despite your inexperience with children, you could tell that explaining to this traumatized, and very much powerful little boy, that you can't be his mother, wasn't a smart idea. So you just told yourself that he just called every woman 'mother'. That's something children do, right?

You patted the boys back in hopes his crushing grip on you would loosen at least a little. "There, there. Everything is fine."

Well, actually, nothing was fine, but you also needed the reassurance of your own words.

You gently pried his arms away enough to kneel down in front of him. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

"Everything was different and strange. Not like home. I was here, and there were so many people and-" His words were interrupted by a wrenching sob. "I was scared, and I didn’t mean to! I just wanted you, but-b-but you weren’t there, and then everyone started running and they yelled at me, and, and-"

As the coldness in the air heightens again, you rub the boy's shoulders gently, despite feeling slightly panicked that he might freeze the entire school. "It's fine. It's fine. You were just scared. No one will get angry with you," you smiled at him. "Do you maybe know a way to fix this?"

He shook his head. "No. Father always does."

"Well, it's not that important anyway. The Headmage will figure something out... Probably," you say when you saw his face twisting with guilt. Although you could feel the stare of a frozen student nearby, who definitely does not agree with you.

The boy nodded at your words.

You paused. You didn’t even know his name. Just calling him 'boy' is certainly weird. "Say, do you remember your name?"

He looked at you in silence before suddenly beginning to cry again, leaving you very confused. "Why are you acting like you don’t know me? I don’t like this game!"

Someone seemed to be sensitive. While you had no experiments with children, Grim certainly taught you how to deal with sudden mood swings and tantrums. Although using tuna as a distraction probably won't work.

"But how can I be sure you are the real you and not a spy, if you won't tell me the right answer?" you replied playfully, poking his stomach. "So? What's your name?"

He giggled when you poked him and stopped crying. "You are being silly, Mother," he said. "My name is Maledor, of course!"

You nodded, as if you knew that as well. Hoping that he didn't turn the tables on you to test you, and said the wrong name. But certainly a child wouldn't do that, right?

"Aha! Maledor. That’s a perfectly real name. You’re clear. No spy here."

You think about what you should do next. Seeing that no help or rescue had come in all this time, you could assume that none of the students who got away actually told the staff. You shouldn’t be surprised by that. After all, this was a school full of self-centered and mischievous students.

You couldn’t leave Maledor alone. And you had little faith that going to Crowley for help would do anything. He would end up dumping the work on you anyway, so you might as well search for a solution on your own, before Ramshackle gets a new member.

By Maledor's pointy ears and little horns, it wasn’t hard to tell that he must be a fae. So, going to Diasomnia is probably the best course of action. Maybe someone there knew who this little boy belonged to. And maybe Malleus or Lilia can defreeze the cafeteria.

You took Maledor by the hand as you led him to the Diasomnia Dorm. Every so often, his grip would tighten, like he was making sure you wouldn’t suddenly disappear. As soon as you went through the mirror and arrived on the bridge that led to the castle, which was the dorm, you could feel Maledor visibly relaxing.

"This is better! I like it here. It looks like home," he said with a cheerful voice. Seemed like you did good by bringing him here.

Right when you were about to enter the dorm, Sebek suddenly crossed your path. His sharp eyes fell upon Maledor. "Human! Why do you have a fae child with you?!" he demanded. Then somehow jumped to: "Have you kidnapped him?! Hand over the child at once!"

"When do you think I kidnapped a magical fae child, from its magical parents?" you shot back. "Do you think I walked to Briar Valley and back in an afternoon?"

Sebek didn’t listen to your words to hung up on the idea that you kidnapped a child. Like that wasn’t something faes usually did to humans, right?

"I said hand over the child!" he shouted, before trying to grab Maledor.

You didn’t know why, but a sudden protective streak came over you, and you stepped in front of Maledor, blocking Sebeks' hand. "Don’t just grab a child!"

Sebek recoiled, shock flickering across his face at your boldness. "Are you impeding one of Lord Malleus' loyal knights, human?"

Sebek tried to grab Maledor again, not listening to you. Maledor, on the other hand, obviously did not want to be grabbed by Sebek and was hiding further behind you, grabbing your jacket. "Mother, I don’t want to go…!"

When Maledor said that, Sebek paused. "M-Mother..?" he repeated, shocked. For a second, you think Sebek might actually let you explain the situation, but he immediately began shouting again. "How dare you steal away a fae child and then confuse it so much?! What wicked human trickery have you used?!"

You grit your teeth, trying hard not to let Sebek's ear-splitting accusations break your patience or your eardrums. "I didn’t do anything to him! And can you not yell? You’re scaring him." You glance at Maledor, who is now peeking nervously from behind your leg, clutching your jacket tightly.

Sebek falters only a split-second before putting himself between you and the entryway. This standoff would be comical if it weren’t so tense. "I will not allow a potential kidnapper entrance to Prince Malleus’s domain!"

"Look, I didn’t kidnap anyone," you said. "He appeared in the cafeteria, scared, and accidentally froze half the room. I thought someone in Diasomnia might recognize him or help fix the mess."

Sebek’s eyes darted from you to Maledor and back. "You expect me to take the word of a human? Of Night Raven’s resident troublemaker?"

Sebek's next rant was kept short when suddenly Lilia appeared swinging between the two of you. You screamed. Then Sebek screamed. And Maledor giggled.

Lilia landed lightly between you and Sebek, his eyes glinting mischievously as always, although there was a subtle alertness there. "My, my. Such excitement at the gates! Am I crashing a secret meeting?" he laughed.

You tried to catch your breath. How did Lilia always manage to appear exactly when you least expected it? "Lilia! Don’t sneak up like that," you gasped, half-laughing but mostly frazzled.

Sebek, who was embarrassed for also screaming, now tried to act as if he didn’t. "L-Lilia! The Prefect has procured a fae child and refuses to answer for it!"

"Oh? My, what an adorable little visitor we have…" Lilia said, studying Maledor’s face with recognition. He seemed to be delighted by Maledor.

"Uncle Lilia!" Maledor said, before coming out from behind you.

"Uncle?" you repeated, flabbergasted as you watched Maledor and Lilia interact as if they were long-lost family. "Do you know Maledor, Lilia?"

Lilia’s smile widened, a spark of mischief glittering in his eyes as he knelt down to Maledor’s level. "Of course I know this one," he said. "It’s been some time since we’ve had such a precious visitor from, shall we say, afar."

Maledor’s worry seemed to melt under Lilia’s reassurance. "Uncle Lilia, where’s Father?" he sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. "Everything’s scary and cold."

You blinked, looking between the two of them, feeling very much like you’d accidentally walked into someone else’s family reunion in the middle of things. "Wait, you really do know him?" you asked Lilia, carefully keeping your voice level.

Meanwhile, Sebek had gone uncharacteristically quiet, torn between his usual outrage and a suspicion that something much bigger than an abduction was happening.

Lilia stood up. His gaze softened as he addressed Maledor. "Don’t worry, Maledor. Your father is very busy today, as are all great kings-in-training. Why don’t you stay with your-" Lilia’s eyes danced over to you, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if privately amused by some secret. "beloved caretaker for now? I’m sure they’ll keep you safe."

Sebek straightened, suspicion not quite dispelled. "Are you certain, Sir, that the Prefect has not enchanted this child into believing-"

"Sebek," Lilia interjected. "Surely you would not accuse our dear Prefect of such underhanded magic?"

Sebek’s mouth opened and closed, before he replied. "I…I would never dare suggest you are incapable of seeing through such tricks, Sir! But this situation is most unusual. We must consider the safety of Prince Malleus. And yet the Prefect is still refusing to offer a proper explanation!"

Sebek puffed out his chest but glanced uneasily at Maledor, who peeked from behind you, still clutching your jacket. Despite his horns and emerald eyes, Maledor looked anything but menacing. Nevertheless, Sebek clung to the role of vigilant sentinel.

You took a deep breath, trying not to get annoyed. "I already told you that I found Maledor in the cafeteria, scared and alone. I don’t know anything else. And anyway, if he were out to get Malleus, freezing the cafeteria wouldn’t exactly be subtle, right? And who would send a child in the first place?"

Sebek seemed ready to continue his barrage of suspicions, but Lilia only chuckled. He bent down, gently patting Maledor’s shoulder while casting a reassuring glance your way. "I think what we all need right now is some warmth and a calm mind. The hallway is no place for important discussions or guests. Why not bring our little visitor and the prefect inside? Come, let’s have tea. We can sort out facts and fancies over something sweet, hm?"

Maledor’s eyes brightened at the mention of sweets. He nodded, tugging lightly at your sleeve as if afraid you’d vanish again.

All of you headed inside. When Lilia offered to brew the tea and bring some sweets, you immediately volunteered to do it instead. After all, the first rule to surviving a visit to Diasomnia was: Never eat or drink something Lilia made.

"I’ll handle the tea," you say quickly before Lilia’s hand can get anywhere near the kettle. Your voice is a bit brighter than usual, and you offer a smile to Lilia that’s ninety percent nerves and ten percent sincere gratitude.

"Oh, are you sure? I was hoping to try a new blend…" Lilia said.

"I insist," you reply, perhaps more quickly than you mean to. "It’s the least I can do after all the chaos."

After returning to the lounge room with the tea and sweets, you all sit down. Maledor is quick to take a seat beside you, while Lilia has to urge Sebek to sit down as well instead of standing guard by the windows.

Steam rose from the cups you carefully poured. Maledor watched you, swinging his little feet under the chair, his misery momentarily forgotten in anticipation of sweets.

As you sit down as well, Maledor asked. "Can I take a cookie, Mother?"

The repeated use of the title 'mother' still caught you off guard every time, as did Maledor asking you if he was allowed to eat a cookie. You nodded eventually. "Yeah, sure."

Maledor’s face lit up as you granted him permission. He snatched a cookie with both hands and promptly stuffed half of it into his mouth, crumbs dotting his cheeks as he beamed triumphantly.

"Say, Maledor," Lilia began, tone filled with curiosity. "it must have been quite an adventure to find yourself here, hm? Do you remember anything? Anything at all about how you arrived at the cafeteria, or where you were before?"

Maledor looked down, chewing his cookie with squirrel-like intensity. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he swung his legs and frowned in concentration. "I… I was in the castle. Not this one… my home. Father was teaching me magic because I wanted to be big! Like him. And then…There was this bright green light, all swirly. It was so pretty, but it got really loud and windy. I called for you." he looked up at you. "But I couldn’t find you or Father, and then I was here. It was scary. I didn’t like it. I just wanted to go home."

You picked up a napkin when you saw that Maledor had finished eating. You cleaned his chocolate-covered fingers and mouth. To which Maledor reacted with a 'Thank you, mother,' after you were done.

Sebek, in the meantime, asked. "Who is your father? Can you say his name?"

Maledor brightened, as if relieved to be asked something simple. "My Father is Malleus! Malleus Draconia."

You barely had time to process Maledor’s answer before the tea caught in your throat, a cough sputtering out of you in disbelief. You blinked hard, as if somehow the world would flicker and correct itself. Instead, the bright-eyed boy just looked up at you, awaiting your response with absolute trust.

Lilia’s eyes sparkled with a private, knowing delight, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched the chaos unfold with all the satisfaction of someone who had seen the punchline coming a mile away.

Sebek, on the other hand, was completely stunned. The rigid guard posture dissolved into total shock. His mouth dropped open, then snapped shut in a series of fishlike gasps. He gripped his teacup so tightly it threatened to snap in half. He blinked, then searched Maledor’s face. His gaze darted between the delicate, unmistakable horns and those deep, green eyes. For a second, you wondered if Sebek was about to faint. "Malleus… Draconia?" he finally choked out. "Impossible! The Young Master has no offspring! There must be a mistake. Some… imposter trickery!"

"Wait, wait," you managed, gesturing rapidly between Maledor and Sebek. "Hold on, Maledor. You said your father is Malleus Draconia. You mean, the Malleus? Diasomnia’s Malleus? Tall, horns, kind of brooding, makes storms when he’s in a mood: Malleus?"

Maledor blinked up at you. His head cocked with innocent confusion, as if he couldn’t comprehend why you were asking something so obvious. "Of course, Father is Malleus Draconia!" he said, the words sounding so simple, so certain, as if you’d just asked him whether he liked cookies. "You know that, Mother… Why are you pretending?"

You sat, frozen in your seat, Maledor’s certainty striking through you more powerfully than any ice he could have summoned. Your brain scrambled wildly for any logical explanation. Was this a trick? A dream? Did the world flip upside down when you weren’t looking?

"IMPOSSIBLE!" Sebek barked, jumping up so quickly his chair almost fell. "You must be mistaken! The Young Master does not have, could not have, a child without telling his loyal knights!" He pointed a finger at you. "And you, Prefect! What have you done to this child?!"

"I swear, I’m not lying!" you answered, finally finding your voice. "I didn’t do anything to Maledor. He called me mother from the start. Before I even knew his name!"

Sebek, torn between devotion and confusion, snapped. "This cannot be! The Young Master would never keep such secrets. And…" His mind worked frantically. "The time makes no sense! My Liege and the Prefect… you… are not even married!"

You flushed, mortified and indignant. "Excuse you! We’re not anything." You glanced at Maledor, lowering your voice. "Not like that. Just friends, really."

Lilia clapped his hands softly, his voice clear and sure in the commotion. "No need for dramatics. You know, Sebek, sometimes the wind brings secrets from times yet to come. Briar Valley holds many old mysteries, does it not?"

Sebek bristled, trying to regain composure. "Sir Lilia, with all respect, how can we trust-"

Lilia cut him off with a gentle but authoritative voice. "Sebek, look at the child." Lilia turned to Maledor. "You were frightened, weren’t you? Do you remember any enchantments or trickery? Did anyone put strange ideas in your head?"

Maledor shook his head. "No. I just wanted Mother. And Father." He glanced sidewise at you, hope flickering in his green eyes. "I’m not lying. I promise."

Lilia patted his shoulder. "Of course you’re not. Sometimes things happen that even us grown-ups do not immediately understand. Time, magic, fate. I think our little prince here is simply… lost between stories."

"But what does that mean, Lilia?" you asked for clarification, not being able to wrap your head around this situation. "Is Maledor truly Malleus... And my…" You didn't finish your sentence with 'child'. It just sounded too weird.

"Sometimes, the river of time chooses curious eddies," Lilia mused with a gentle smile. "A leaf from tomorrow might find itself drifting among the branches of today. If it’s not a trick, not a spell, and not a child’s tale, perhaps we must accept that sometimes, the world permits a riddle to live before its answer."

You stared, mouth poised between laughter and a plea for sanity. "Are you saying… he’s from the future?" The words felt ridiculous as they left your lips.

Lilia shrugged lightly. "Magic has never cared much for clocks or calendars. Wouldn’t be the first time something important arrived a little ahead of schedule."

While you were still trying to wrap your head around this, Sebek seemed to accept Lilias' words in a split second. "My Lieges…" Sebek’s voice faltered, then swelled with fervor. "My Liege's heir! Of course! There can be no other explanation befitting Prince Malleus’s unparalleled greatness! Only Prince Malleus, scion of the glorious Draconia line, could sire such a prodigy! Such strength, such majesty, even at such a young age. Freezing the entire cafeteria! Behold, the testament of our great lord’s power!"

"You are the proof of Prince Malleus’s supremacy. Even time itself cannot contain his legacy!" he gushed. "A scion born of unmatched power and noble heritage! To think, I am in the presence of my Liege's heir -his magnificent progeny!"

"Forgive me, young prince!" He dropped to one knee before Maledor, completely ignoring you now, and offered a bow so deep it was a miracle he didn’t hit his head on the floor. "Forgive me for doubting your identity for even a second. I, Sebek Zigvolt, am at your service, just like I am at your glorious father's service!"

Sebek’s 180-degree turn gave you mental whiplash. Two minutes ago, he was about to lock you up for kidnapping a child. And now he was praising Maledor as if he was the second coming of Jesus. And anyway, where was your praise? After all, if Maledor was yours and Malleus's child, you had also contributed half to this cute little boy.

No, on a second thought, you'd rather not be the subject of Sebek’s loud and lavish praise. You were still in denial about all of this. Honestly, you were just surprised by Sebek’s sudden turn. Like, wasn’t he super concerned that Malleus and you weren’t even married a second ago? As if Sebek thinks children could only be conceived if their parents really love each other and wish for one. He was so innocent.

"This must be announced at once! The other knights deserve to weep at this glory. Everyone in Diasomnia needs to know. No, the entire College must know. Briar Valley must be informed. And the Young Master!"

Sebek’s words left you even more mortified than the entire situation already did. You are vaguely wishing the frosted cafeteria had swallowed you whole. You couldn’t face Malleus right now. What were you supposed to say? You rather die than face that embarrassment.

"No! We can’t tell anyone! Especially not Malleus," you interrupted in a voice that could rival Sebeks, before clearing your throat and continuing in a normal voice. "What I mean is, how are we going to explain this? Like, no one is going to believe that a child just showed up from the future, right? They will think Malleus had a secret love child or something."

"I can’t keep the Young Master in the dark about his own flesh and blood. It is my knightly duty to inform him about everything that is happening in his absence!"

Sebek, as always, did not listen, and Lilia was just enjoying the drama for now. In a burst of desperation, you grabbed a cupcake and threw it across the table at Sebek. He stood there, utterly stunned. A thick glob of icing clung to his cheek and crumbs slided down his jacket. He blinked, still processing your audacious cupcake attack. Meanwhile, Maledor, not understanding anything, laughed at that.

"Seems like you can’t go to Malleus now. You wouldn’t stand before your Liege covered in icing, right?" you said, trying to buy time.

"H-How dare you assault one of Prince Malleus’s loyal knights with pastries, human!" he barked.

The feeling that you brought the situation under control immediately vanished when the door opened. There, calmly and tall, stood the regal figure of Malleus, as if the universe liked seeing your misery. Those sharp green eyes found you immediately and lingered for a breath before shifting to Maledor.

"Father!" Maledor’s cry rang bright and clear. His little legs scrambed down from the chair. He rushed to Malleus with unerring speed, arms stretched wide open.

Malleus knelt smoothly. His regal composure melting enough to open his arms and receive the child -his child- into a gentle embrace. "So it was you I sensed. A presence so like my own, yet unlike any I have felt before."

Heat flooded your face as the initial shock passed. Your first instinct was to bolt from sheer embarrassment. Somehow, you managed to find your voice. "You’re not surprised, Malleus?"

"Surprised?" he repeated "No, not at all. I recognized the resonance of my own magic the moment Maledor appeared." He regarded you calmly. "You seem greatly unsettled. Is it so shocking to you?"

"I mean, yeah! Everyone would be shocked," you replied honestly.

"You truly cannot feel it?" Malleus asekd. "Even now, the air shimmers with our blood intertwined. A melody only you and I could create."

You thought about his words for a moment. Putting it like that, you suppose you did feel something. Although definitely not as clear as Malleus did. "Still, shouldn’t we be more concerned?"

"Concern is natural. But you underestimate the strength of the Draconia blood. And your own as well. Our child would never be so easily lost to time without reason. He will return," Malleus said, voice absolute. "The magic that called him here is already unraveling."

"So the problem will fix itself?" you question. That sounded like better circumstances than most problems you have run into in Twisted Wonderland. "Everything will go back to normal soon?"

Malleus nodded. "Yes. This visit, while precious, is unintended. The magic that summoned him here is unstable and will not last much longer. The world has its ways of correcting itself."

Some of the tension in your chest loosened at his certainty.

Lilia, barely restraining a wide grin, chimed in. "It seems time itself favors your union, hmm?"

Your face went hot again, just as your flustered heart was about to calm down a little. "Y-You can’t just say something like that out of nowhere…!" you stuttered. Your voice sounded more like a nervous squeak.

"But it's a wonderful thing, isn't it?" Lilia replied. Beneath his light tone, you could sense the sincerity in his eyes. Like a guardian who is relieved to see his forsterling in good hands.

Malleus regarded Lilia for a moment, then turned back to you, his emerald gaze gentle but searching. "Does it trouble you?" he asked. "If such a future would come to pass would it be so unwelcome?"

Despite your flustered state it didn’t take long for you to shook your head. "No… It wouldn't be unwelcome."

Maledor, oblivious to the tension and simply happy to be near both his parents, studied your face. He shuffled over from Malleus’s embrace and returned to your side, hugging you tightly enough to drive the air from your lungs. "Your face is all red, Mother! When Sebek gets red he gets loud. When Mother gets red she gets quiet," he commented, which made you only more flustered. "I think ice cream makes everything better. Can we eat ice cream?"

You softly pinch Maledor's cheek. "I think someone already had enough sugar for a day with all the cookies and cupcakes."

Maledor’s smile faltered for half a second, his wide eyes shimmering with a betrayed kind of innocence that only a child could muster. Then, with all the cunning of someone who’d clearly inherited far too much of Malleus’s intelligence and dramatic tendencies, he turned slowly toward his father.

Malleus tilted his head. His expression was calm and unreadable. Maledor’s lip trembled just enough to be convincing. "Father..." he began, voice so heart-wrenchingly sweet it could’ve earned him ten free sundaes anywhere in Twisted Wonderland. "Mother said no to ice cream."

The underlying message was clear: Mother rejected me. Only you can right this cruel injustice, Father.

"A most tragic betrayal," Malleus said solemnly. "To be denied joy by one’s own mother. This is indeed a grievous matter."

"Are you siding with him?" you asked, eyes darting from dragon fae to dragon fae. "He’s a little sugar gremlin who just weaponized his cuteness!"

"I am merely acknowledging his diplomatic tact," Malleus replied with a perfectly neutral expression, though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. He patted Maledor’s hair, then gently guided him back to your side. "A future prince must know how to plead his case with grace and strategic flair."

"Don’t encourage him," you grumbled, though your lips tugged up in spite of yourself. This entire situation defied logic and physics, maybe even sanity, but somehow... it wasn't as terrifying as it first seemed, not with the way Malleus stood beside you like an unwavering anchor in a storm, and how Maledor leaned against you like he had always belonged there.

"He encourages me," Maledor beamed up at his father.

"I do," Malleus agreed without hesitation.

"I manipulate Mother."

"You do," Malleus affirmed with serene approval.

"You are literally both saying the scheme out loud while I’m right here!" you pointed out. "You’re not supposed to straight-up say it’s manipulation!"

"Don’t worry, Father. Mother always forgives you when you hug her from behind. You do that a lot in the future," Maledor said to comfort Malleus after seeing your grumpy reaction.

Your soul nearly left your body.

Malleus blinked. Then turned to look at you intensely.

You snapped your head toward the child in horror. "Maledor!"

"What?" he asked, blinking up at you with wide, guileless eyes. "It’s true. When you get all ‘grumpy-grumbly’ and tell Father to leave you alone, Father just hugs you from behind, really slow and gentle, and you get all red and mutter something like, 'You know I can’t stay mad at you.'"

"Slow and gentle, you say," Malleus repeated. His expression was thoughtful, as if he was memorizing every word Maledor said. "Hmm. So gentle physical affection dissolves your irritation. I will need to remember that approach."

"That is not the takeaway here!" you interrupted.

"I am merely collecting useful knowledge of what pleases my future consort," Malleus responded smoothly. With almost academic intrigue. "Maledor’s insights are quite enlightening."

Sebek’s complexion was caught somewhere between ghostly pale and tomato red. "Y-Young Prince! This is hardly appropriate information to share in a public setting!"

Maledor blinked at Sebek, completely unbothered. "But Sebek, you said it’s a knight’s duty to speak the truth and uphold honor. I’m just being helpful."

"Yes, but there are degrees of helpfulness...! Some truths are best kept private, especially when discussing the... the subtle... the-" Sebek finally broke eye contact and wheezed, "hugging techniques."

"I agree! We should just stop talking about this," you agreed, hoping the embarrassment would be over now, but then something came to your mind. "No, wait. It is only fair if you also share embarrassing things about Malle- Eh, your Father, Maledor."

Sebek, still recovering from the previous exchange, audibly gasped. "Y-young prince! The Young Master is above embarrassment!"

"No, he’s not," you said flatly.

"Well, Mother says it’s fair," Maledor chirped. "So. When you’re not around, Father gets really weird."

"Weird?" Malleus repeated. His tone remained level, but one graceful brow arched inquisitively.

"Mhmm. Sometimes he just stands in the hallway. Just... standing. Staring out a window. All dramatic and sad," Maledor said before adding brightly. "Oh, and when you come back, even if it’s just from the bathroom, he teleports to your side and says 'Ah, as I suspected, the world only feels whole in your presence again.'"

Malleus remained unshaken, which somehow made it worse. "There is no shame in expressing adoration," he said. "Is it so strange, to long for the presence of the one who stirs your soul?"

Somehow, your idea backfired on you. Not only was Malleus not the least bothered by Maledor's revelations, you are even more flustered now. You didn’t even know what to say, but thankfully Maledor filled the silence again.

"And one time. Mother kissed Father’s cheek right before a council meeting, and he smiled the whole time. The old scary ministers freaked out and thought Father was about to declare war because he never smiles like that during council."

"Alright, that's enough glimpses into the future!" you interrupted hastily, cutting off any further soul-exposing anecdotes. "Didn’t you say you wanted ice cream, Maledor?"

"Yes, ice cream!" Maledor shouted excitedly.

"If it pleases the young prince, I shall fetch the finest ice cream the college kitchens offer," Sebek declared utterly serious, though his face was still visibly red from the "inappropriate" things Maledor revealed.

Lilia, who looked like he was thriving in this chaos, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. "This might be the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in a hundred years. And I fought a manticore while wearing a tutu once."

"...Why?" you couldn’t help asking.

"There was a wager. Long story." He winked.

You just accepted what Lilia said without further questions. In a room together with your future child, that just appeared out of thin air, Lilia might still be the biggest enigma.

You all find your seats at the table again. It didn’t take long for Sebek to arrive with the ice cream. Maledor’s eyes sparkled as he eyed the huge bowl full of brightly-colored ice cream that you placed in front of him. Despite his eagerness, he still waited quietly until you gave him permission to begin eating. Seated beside him, Malleus also seemed to enjoy his bowl of ice cream with quiet contentment. You had the suspicion that he also wanted one from the beginning.

As you also began eating your ice cream, you began to really process what was happening. Does this encounter mean that your future was now predestined? Does this mean you will stay in Twisted Wonderland and never find a way back home to your world? Will you become the consort of one of the most powerful mages in the whole world, reigning beside him? They were all worthy, existential questions, but one in particular rose above the rest in your mind.

"Wait. Isn’t it a thing that dragon faes hatch from eggs? So… does that mean I'm going to lay an egg someday? Or is this a seahorse type of situation, and Malleus will lay the egg?"

The room was silent for a moment, but before anyone could answer that very crucial question, Sebek raised his voice. "Seahorse? How dare you compare the Great Malleus Draconia with an unremarkable creature such as a seahorse?!"

While a new round of chaos broke out on the table, Silver probably just woke up wondering why Sebek never came to wake him up for his guard duty. And the frozen students are till waiting for help.

#twst x reader #malleus x reader #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge

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owodi · 1 day ago

Text

the “current boyfriend” is currently pissed || lads x f!reader

summary: A TikTok prank on your ‘current’ LADS boyfriend.

warnings: f!reader, Lumiere mentions

a/n: i just needed to get this out of my drafts, so this part has xavier, rafayel, and caleb. part two will contain zayne and sylus, and maybe a rewrite of Caleb's part since I didn't realize how similar it was to Raf's and I'm not super happy with that :(

(that said, i love how Xav and Raf's parts turned out, so i hope you guys do too :P)

part two (w/ Zayne and Sylus)

masterlist

Friday afternoons were either incredibly busy or incredibly slow since the flurried weekend activity either lured wanderers out of hiding or made everyone at the Association antsy to clock out. These moments were some of your favorite at work since you’d get to talk with team members you didn’t regularly interact with.

Tara stands by your desk, phone in hand and hip propped against the desk edge, showing you a recent trend circulating on Moments. Nero was near, pretending not to eavesdrop, but the suspicious lack of typing clued you in otherwise.

“So they start off by saying they’re filming a video for social media—usually like a product review or something—and then they intro their boyfriend by calling him their ‘current boyfriend’.” Tara’s hand flies to her mouth as she giggles and watches the video on her phone. “Some of the reactions are really funny, but man do they make me wish I could try it on Ben.”

You tear your eyes from the boyfriend currently sassing his girlfriend on Tara’s screen, “Why can’t you do it with him? I think he’d be perfect for this; he treats you like a dream.”

“Ugh, he walked in on me when I was explaining the trend to Nero in the break room, so he’d totally see it coming.”

You arch a brow at Nero, surprised he’d entertained this conversation once already. Nero huffs, pushing his glasses up. The red on the tips of his ears gives him away. “I’d rather be prepared than taken by surprise.”

Chuckling, you lean back against your desk. “Sure, sure. Well, I’ll see if I can do it then,” you say to the room. “And I’ll be sure to show you the results, Nero.”

Xavier

“Hey, Xavie?” Your voice floats over your shoulder, intentionally casual and playful, as your fingers dance over your phone, adjusting it to the right angle. “Can you come here real quick?”

Xavier pads into the kitchen, footsteps heavy with sleep. His eyes flicker briefly with surprise at the colorful sprawl of snacks on the countertop. “My starlight,” he murmurs, the sleepy rasp of his voice familiar and comforting. “What’s all this?”

You spin around, mischief bright in your gaze. “Remember those aunties from the hotpot place? The ones with all the old-fashioned condiments?”

Xavier visibly processes your words, trying to cipher through the hazy memories of that night. It’d been 27 straight hours of battling wanderers and he’d been exhausted (not that he’d ever tell you) when you’d suggested a post-work hotpot date. He’s never one to deny you, but the only thing he could focus on that night was the bright lilt of your laugh and the gentle cadence of your voice. Anything other than you was a nonimportant haze.

Regardless, he nods. He’s sure he can piece it together from context clues. “Yeah,” he finally says, peering past your shoulder and picking up a bag of shrimp chips, the crinkling plastic both sharp and nostalgic. “Oh, I haven’t had these in forever.”

“Exactly! Some of these are ancient. I thought as a thank you we could try some on camera and send a video to the group—what do you think?”

Your eager eyes made your excitement contagious; Xavier could never refuse when you looked at him so earnestly. “Sure—I’ll pick a few for us while you start recording.”

You go back to the camera, biting your lip to stifle your giggles. While you genuinely wanted to film a thank you for those kind hotpot aunties, you also wanted to kill two birds with one stone: you were going to prank Xavier with a trend Tara had shown you, and there was no better time than the present to set your plan into action.

Xavier’s still rustling through the selection when you start the video. “Hi aunties! Thank you so much for sending these snacks! It was really kind of you all to send such a wide variety, and that too so many new ones to try!”

You half angle your body to gesture behind you at Xavier, who is holding a bag in each hand. “I have my current boyfriend, Xavier, here—”

“What.” Xavier drops the bags back onto the island, eyes suddenly alert and locked on you. He pulls himself to his full height, no longer slouching. “What do you mean ‘current boyfriend’?”

Warning bells ring in your head as he stalks towards you slowly, posture akin to a predator’s. You stumble backwards until you feel the island hit your back, hands going in front of you as a last barrier between the two of you. “No no no, not like that, Xavier—”

“Like what, then?” He softly questions, hands bracketing you on either side and providing you no escape. His dark gaze holds you prisoner, whether you like it or not.

(You feel a thrill of something—excitement? arousal?—shoot down your spine—the last time he was like this was when you’d forced him to wear Lumiere merchandise against his will.)

“I- I just meant ‘current’ as in ‘right now’! Like ‘right now, I’m with my boyfriend Xavier’!”

His brows furrow. “That’s not how grammar works, my star. You said ‘current boyfriend’, as in ‘my boyfriend right now’. Do you have us on rotation? Who else is there?” His eyes flash, watching every minute movement you make.

Your hands settle on his chest, trying to soothe him. “No no! There’s no one else, I swear, Xavier.” You make eye contact, forcing yourself to look as innocent as possible.

“So am I not enough for you? You’re it for me, but am I not for you?” His eyes take on that puppy-dog look you’re oh so weak for, and before you know it, you’ve wrapped him into a tight hug of apology.

“No, Xavier. You’re not just it for me. You’re everything for me. I’m sorry, bunny. It was a prank. Please don’t believe it.”

“Alright, my starlight, I believe you, don’t worry.” His hands rub up and down your back as he drops a kiss to your temple. “Why don’t we take a break for now, hmm? We can try filming again later.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Wanna watch a movie for now? We’ve got snacks!”

Later, when you show the video to Tara and Nero, you see how he eyed the camera with a knowing smirk while you’d been busy coaxing and reassuring him. That manipulative bastard.

Rafayel

You’re curled up on the studio couch, aimlessly scrolling through your Moments feed while Rafayel pouts near your ear. “C’mon, cutie! I just need you to help with this one video. Pleaseee?”

You knew the video he was talking about. Hell, even Thomas wanted your help, saying it’d boost Rafayel’s image on social media. Apparently, having the unapproachable, ice-cold painter film a “Day in My Life” video narrated by his girlfriend would do wonders at softening his social image. (Especially after he’d yelled at the audience during his exhibition last weekend and closed the gallery early.)

You, however, were hesitant. Rafayel, for all his elusive airs, was a prominent figure of society and gossip magazines. How would his reputation tank after you put your name next to his? Rafayel had claimed time and time again that it’d be fine—that it’s for the better that those fake fans leave since they clearly don’t appreciate his art—but you can’t trust his opinion on that front.

Rafayel sidles up to you on the couch, ignoring your attempts at ignoring him. “The TikTok’s already filmed, cutie. All you’d have to do is give it a voiceover from the POV of my Miss Bodyguard. Shouldn’t be that hard, right?”

Your thumb hovers over the screen as you side-eye your boyfriend. “I don’t know, Raf. I already told you it doesn’t seem like a great idea—I just don’t see it as a net positive…”

And suddenly you’re horizontal on the couch, too much Rafayel flooding your vision as he tickles you senseless. “So what I’m hearing is that I just need to throw out a bit more bait, huh? I’ll capture you faster if I lay out a better trap?”

You writhe on the couch, giggles filling the air as your boyfriend refuses to relent—not until he gets his way. “O- oka—ack—kay, okay, mercy! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

And that’s how you found yourself at Rafayel’s dining table, watching the minute-long video for the fourth time as your boyfriend explained every frame in painstaking detail.

“Raf, fishie, I think I’m prepared enough.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrow at you, scanning your face as if to decide your readiness for himself. “Are you sure, cutie? If you don’t remember everything, I won’t blame you, but I will be disappointed since I could’ve explained it more beforehand. Don’t need a case of goldfish brain up in here.” He taps your temple to punctuate his point.

You reflexively rub at your forehead, even if there was no power in his fingers. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. Besides, just because I wasn’t there the one day you filmed this doesn’t mean I’ve not spent a ‘day in your life’ with you. It’ll be fine.”

As Rafayel starts the recording, cuing you to begin, your memory flashes to the videos Tara showed you. Lips curling, you begin, “Hi, everyone! Come spend a day with my current boyfriend, Rafay—”

Rafayel’s eyes widen, head swiveling in shock. “Um, excuse me? I didn’t think your goldfish brain was that forgetful! What do you ‘current boyfriend’?”

Your eyes meet him, doe-eyed and full of artificial innocence. “What do you mean ‘current boyfriend’? I’d never say that, Raf.”

“Uh, you so did? Just now? You said ‘current boyfriend’ when introing the video!”

“What, no? Of course I didn’t. Can I continue now?” You bat your lashes gently for your next point. “Thomas said he needs this by tonight.”

You focus on the phone, suppressing the urge to laugh at Rafayel’s flabbergasted expression. “And after lunch, Rafayel meets with his manager and other showcase coordinators to workshop layouts for upcoming showings. Then, it’s my current boyfriend’s favorite time of the day—”

“I’m currently so glad this video is nearly done, because my ‘current girlfriend’ is currently doing a shitty job narrating it.” Rafayel glowers, leaning towards the phone so his voice is picked up. He glares daggers at you while speaking.

“Your ‘current girlfriend’ thinks you’re being a bit dramatic for a TikTok.” You finally break, giggling into the microphone.

“Aha! So you do admit it! You better be joking right now, cutie, or else your current boyfriend is going to drown himself in an ocean current.” Rafayel takes the phone from you, starting another draft. “Do it again—properly this time. Don’t break my heart and record the evidence.”

You kiss him firmly on the cheek as a quiet apology and snake an arm around his neck to whisper, “Alright, alright—I’ll do it seriously now. What if you do it with me though? It seems more natural that way.”

You get a message that night full of crying emojis, quickly followed by a link to the TikTok. Turns out Thomas used the first take you and your boyfriend recorded, much to your surprise. The next day, he admits it was a nice change from the usual bossy demeaner Rafayel had, to which Rafayel throws another hissy fit.

(That video is one of Rafayel’s most popular TikToks to date—much to his disdain.)

Caleb

A notification pings on your phone, interrupting your video call with Caleb. Normally, you’d ignore it—opting to turn on Do Not Disturb altogether—but the content makes you pause your sentence, earning a curious look from your boyfriend.

“What’s up, pips? All good down there in your world?” Caleb rests his chin on his crossed arms, content to just watch your face process the email in real time.

You nod absentmindedly before refocusing on Caleb. “Colonel Caleb.” You command, watching Caleb draw to his full height and salute you.

“Yes, Officer Pipsqueak?”

“Colonel Caleb, we have a new mission: the Hunters Association is having a social media contest, and the winner gets a stipend to commission custom gear.” Caleb’s eyes gleam with competition, and you’re sure your expression matches.

“10-4, officer. When is the deadline?”

You lean back in the chair, peering over to the calendar on the adjacent wall. “The 15th, Colonel Caleb, but the sooner we upload our video, the more time for our video to go viral.”

Caleb nods. “Good strategy, officer. I agree.”

You stand from your desk and stretch, ignoring how Caleb’s eyes catch on the briefly exposed skin of your stomach. “Well, then Colonel Caleb, I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll need the whole weekend to prep, I’m sure.” You lean down, sending a mischievous smile through the screen. “And if we finish quickly, I can think of some other ways for us to spend time, baby.”

Your grin turns smug as Caleb’s cheeks turn a bright apple red, highlighted by the soft yellow glow of his desk lamp. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Colonel Caleb. Over and out!”

He has a fond look on his face as he reaches to the camera to end the call. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n. Over and out.”

Despite the early hour, you spend the entire trip to Skyhaven mulling over potential video ideas. Doing Caleb’s makeup and giving him a makeover? Might take a lot of time for poor turnout. A cooking video? The only gain from that would be an influx of aunties trying to set up Caleb (poster child and golden boy extraordinaire) with their daughters.

It needs to be quick but funny. Something with a good draw.

You scroll through your text history with Tara before stumbling on the perfect idea: a prank video. And knowing Caleb and his ways, the imminent crash out will be perfect.

The rest of the train ride is spent plotting, and when you finally reach the station, you begin recording a few snippets, capturing the train’s deceleration and the burst of noise and crowd at the station.

“(Y/n)!” You run into Caleb’s warm embrace, squealing as he lifts and twirls you in glee. “Train alright?” He sets you down, ruffling your hair, before noticing the phone recording in your hand. “What’s this?”

“I had the perfect idea for the video: how about doing a weekend in our lives? It’s not every day that you see a Hunter and a Farspace Fleet officer together—it’ll be like an exclusive preview into what we do and how we spend our time!”

“Hmm, not bad. And if it sucks, we’ll still have time to record something else.”

You whack his stomach in retaliation, rolling your eyes as he pretends to be wounded. “Trust me, it’ll be perfect.” You saunter off towards where you think his car is, playing it off as he pulls your arm gently to turn you around to go in the opposite (and correct) direction. Your cheeks burn as Caleb’s laugh rings throughout your little corner on the station platform.

The car ride is spent with idle bantering, Caleb watching with amusement as you capture various scenes of the passing curated greenery. Time passes by in a flash, and it’s only once he’s parking, that you seem to remember where you are.

It’s second nature for Caleb to take your bags, so you whip your camera out again, making sure to get some good action shots. He flexes his biceps before shooting a boyish grin at you behind the camera. “Make sure you get my good side, Pips.”

You laugh freely at his antics. “There’s no way my stuff is sooo heavy you need to use all your strength. What a poser!”

“So harsh, Pipsqueak, so harsh. If you’re such a know-it-all, then lead the way.”

Caleb’s already begun preparing lunch, so you capture a few shots of his expert knife skills and wok handling. Next is a movie, some action-packed sequel to last week’s pick, but you’re too focused on not falling asleep on his lap. A walk, some 1-v-1 pick-up basketball, a quick trip to a convenience store for cold drinks. Building a model airplane while variety game shows run in the background, filling out a few record logs for the Association, dinner of lunch’s leftovers. The shooting range at night, spending time on Caleb’s balcony together, showering and heading to bed.

These scenes all flash by on your laptop as you splice them together, Caleb holding you from behind as you both sit wrapped up on the couch. Your keyboard clicks are the only consistent sound in the room; occasionally, Caleb will pipe up with a suggestion, but for the most part, he’s content with just watching you edit the scenes of your day together.

“We had a busy day yesterday, huh?” He murmurs, chin resting on your shoulder as he watches you edit timestamps onto different clips.

“I think we tried to speedrun the entire weekend to seem cooler than we actually are.” You take a moment to stretch, groaning as the muscles in your shoulders flex, and then return to your laptop, determined to wrap up the video soon.

He leans back and his hands move from around your middle to your shoulders, gently pressing at the base of your neck to relieve tension. “You have much more left, pips? Why don’t you take a break?”

You hum absentmindedly, relishing the press of his fingers. “Almost done. I just need to do a voiceover for this and then it’ll be ready.” You turn in his hold, looking at his handsome face. “Wanna do it together?”

“Sure, take the lead and I’ll follow.”

With a press of a button here, a few settings on your laptop there, you’re recording. “Come spend a day in the life of a Deepspace Hunter and a Farspace Fleet officer! I’m (Y/n)—”

“—and I’m Caleb—”

“—and this is what a weekend looks like when I visit my current boyfriend in Skyhaven!”

Caleb’s body stiffens behind you, and you have to stifle the smile in your voice as you continue, “I woke up early to grab the—”

“—wait, sorry, did you say ‘current boyfriend’, pipsqueak?” The confusion in his voice makes you try to turn in his arms to catch his expression, but they grip your hips firmly, keeping you in place.

“Uh, yeah? Is that not true?” You fake confusion, praying the microphone captures the shell-shocked, honest-to-god whimper the man behind you makes. “Everything okay, Caleb?”

You feel, rather than see, him exhale slowly, processing your words, before he lets out a victorious laugh. Your eyes try to see his reflection on the darkness of your still-recording laptop screen. You can barely make out the smile lighting up his whole face.

“No, no. That is right. I am your current boyfriend. I am currently your boyfriend, (Y/n)! I did it!” He lets out a whoop as he laughs again. “I made it out of the brother zone!!”

Oh good Lord.

part two (w/ Zayne and Sylus)

#lads x reader #caleb x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader

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